Too Many Princes (56 page)

THE TRAITOR'S TRAP

For a few hours, Lottres virtually was a griffin, but in time the thrill of flight gave way to monotony as the green-and-gray mountains of Verelay rolled beneath him. They were like waves of the sea, Lottres thought. Supposedly no two were alike, yet there was little to distinguish one from another. Only the tiny mountain lakes had any individuality. Lottres counted them as a way to pass time. Riding along on his stomach meant that his neck hurt whenever he tried to look ahead. He could only look down, and play games to pass the time.

It was quiet, high in the air. Perhaps that was what made the voice seem so loud. Lottres tensed. It wasn't so much words he heard, but a kind of shout. Someone had sensed their approach. An alarm was being passed.

Slowly, taking care not to unbalance his winged steed, Lottres raised himself on his elbows. Just ahead of him, Shaelen was doing the same. Her griffin angled its wings, dropping back to pace Lottres's mount.

“
You heard that?
”
Shaelen called across the air.

“
Yes,
”
Lottres called back.
“
It looks like Brastigan was right.
”

He understood why she spoke aloud, rather than directly to his mind. Yriatt hadn't mentioned any wizards waiting for them in Carthell. If there were sorcerers ahead, they must be
eppagadrocca.

“
Keep your guard up,
”
Shaelen cautioned. Then her griffin beat its wings and surged ahead.

Lottres could feel more probes now. Subtle touches, as Yriatt did before one of her assaults. He held his breath and stayed calm. No need to reveal himself with panicked bleating. After a moment more, the seeking passed. The two dragons flew onward, unhurried and unconcerned. Lottres reminded himself that he was their
thaeme
now. They would protect him. He kept his defenses up and scanned the passing mountains. Far below, a little lake winked at him, but he had lost interest in that game.

The land below was changing at last. The mountains fell away abruptly, in broad terraces. It looked as if the rocks had been shaped into steps for a giant to tread. A huge lake lapped at the base. In some places, rocky cliffs fell straight to the water. In others, pebbled beaches lined the shore. Ymell and Yriatt turned southward, following the water's edge.

Lottres had never seen it before, but he knew this must be the Sea of Carthell. It was a freshwater lake, vast and deep. Strange peoples lived on the opposite shore in cities too far off to see even from the air. Reeds clad the Carthellan shore, but farther out the lake was glossy and still, so dark it was impenetrable even at midday.

Even Lottres, with his weak human senses, could smell the water. He sensed his griffin's restlessness. It had flown hard and wanted to drink. Lottres was thirsty, too. He hoped they would land soon. Mindful that hostile wizards might hear, he quieted his thoughts.

Instead, he looked below for signs of habitation. He first saw small boats, some of reeds and some of wood. Fishermen gaped upward as the two magnificent dragons winged past. Lottres saw no nets in the boats. Instead, he glimpsed something that resembled a lobster pot.

Boats became more numerous. Soon houses and piers stood along the shore, and wagon trails wound among the trees. The shoreline bent sharply. When they glided around the curve, a city lay before them.

Carthell was smaller than Lottres had expected. The city lay in a natural bowl beneath the terraced mountains. Protective towers ranged along the step above. These, and the town walls, were built of an unusual, reddish stone. Lottres could see no such tint to the mountains behind Carthell, so the stones must have been imported. As they drew near, he could see that the buildings had rounded roofs, some of wood and others of weathered metal.

Carthell Keep stood on a small island, connected to the city by a heavily fortified bridge. Its walls were laid in alternating courses of red and gray stone. The striking pattern was a navigational marker as well as a symbol of prestige. As Lottres recalled, his brothers, Rickard and Albrett, had always been quick to point out that Carthell was once an independent state. They claimed their uncle's capital was far older and grander than Harburg. Lottres had never had time to search the archives and refute these assertions. After seeing Carthell, he had to admit a good argument could be made for the grandeur.

Yriatt and Ymell swooped low across the water as they approached the keep. Their presence had definitely been noted. Horn calls echoed from the keep and city walls, like angry bulls confronting an intruder. Lottres could feel his griffin's agitation. The clear air was muddied by city smells, and the beast didn't want to be so close to people.

There was a small landing just at the base of the keep's walls. Lake waters lapped at the sides of a large and ornate barge moored there. Something for the duke's private pleasures, Lottres assumed. The dock wasn't large enough for all of them to land at once. Ymell glided in while Yriatt and the two griffins circled over the lake. When Ymell had shrunk to his human form, Yriatt landed.

Lottres could see men running in the courtyards as his griffin folded its wings to follow Yriatt. The dock was in easy arrow shot of both the walls and bridge, he noted, though there was no sign of hostility. He sensed plenty from the
eppagadrocca,
however. Lottres had felt no more probes as they drew nearer to Carthell, but he could feel them now. They must have some way to conceal themselves, for he could hear only indistinct murmurs. Some came from the castle and some from the town. There were at least three
eppagadrocca
. Too much talk was going on for just two men.

The griffin's talons gouged the wood as it alighted on the dock. Lottres rolled off, landing in a crouch. His former steed flung itself skyward with an angry shriek. Lottres stood slowly, recovering his sense of balance after so many prone hours. With regret, he watched the two griffins retreat. They deserved thanks, but he didn't dare speak to them now.

“
I have sent the griffins to the mountains,
”
Yriatt said as Shaelen and Lottres joined her and Ymell.
“
They will wait a few days in case we need them again.
”

“
We will wait, too,
”
Ymell added with a wry smile.
“
Someone will come to collect us, I'm sure.
”

Lottres opened his mouth, but Shaelen spoke first.

“
You heard the
eppagadrocca?
”
she asked.

“
We did.
”
Ymell wore a hooded expression.
“
I believe it would be best, Lottres, if you did not reveal yourself. Maintain your barriers, and let them think you a mere man.
”

“
They will know of Shaelen as my
thaeme,
”
Yriatt added.
“
They may not know of you.
”

Lottres nodded. He could see that the element of surprise might be useful. He said,
“
With the two of you to worry about, they might not pay much attention to me at all.
”

Both wizards smiled.

“
What do you plan to do,
Maen?
”
Shaelen asked.
“
Surely they cannot hope to ambush us. We are all aware of each other.
”

“
Why, we will bring Duke Johanz our warning,
”
Ymell said.
“
What happens after will depend on his response.
”

“
It's possible he does not know the
eppagadrocca
are here,
”
Yriatt said.
“
Perhaps he will help us defeat them.
”

From her tone of voice, Yriatt didn't think this was likely. Lottres agreed with her. Unferth wouldn't have tolerated such people in Harburg without his knowing about it. There was no reason to think Johanz was any less vigilant. Lottres felt his heart grow cold. If Carthell was an accomplice, it cast the invasion in a much more treacherous light.

“
Do not think too far ahead,
Thaeme,
”
Yriatt said.
“
Remember to guard your thoughts. You are still inexperienced. The
eppagadrocca
may strike at you first, seeking to learn what you know of our intentions.
”

“
Don't worry about me,
Maess
,
”
Lottres answered stoutly.

At the end of the dock, a small tower guarded a flight of steps up to the fortress. Its gate now opened with a rattle of chains. The boards of the dock quivered in time to marching feet as a column of soldiers emerged. Their surcoats were purple and white, the colors of Carthell. Their captain wore stiff plumes of the same hues on his helm. When he stopped, with his men ranged behind him, his eyes darted nervously, taking in the four of them.

“
Halt in the name of Duke Johanz,
”
the captain said, although no one was moving. He spoke a dialect of Cruthan, somewhat nasal but easy enough to understand.
“
State your names and your purpose.
”

Somewhere in the keep, Lottres could feel strangers straining to hear their reply.

“
I am Ymell, a wizard,
”
Ymell replied smoothly. He made a half-bow to the wary captain.
“
I have with me my daughter, Yriatt, and her companion, Shaelen. We are escorting Prince Lottres of Crutham, who comes bearing grave tidings. Duke Johanz will want to hear what we have to say. Will you please lead us to him?
”

The captain's eyes had been fixed on Ymell and Yriatt. At the mention of Lottres's name, his head turned sharply. Their eyes met, and Lottres had the impression of some strong emotion. However, the man's face gave nothing away.

“
Then, we are kinsmen,
”
the captain said.
“
I am Dietrick, son of Johanz. Well met, cousin Lottres.
”

Lottres stepped forward, extending a hand in greeting.
“
I thank you for your courtesy, cousin. I only wish the circumstances were different.
”

So this was Johanz's own son? Now that he said it, Lottres did see some suggestion of Albrett in Dietrick's square jaw and deep-set eyes. Dietrick's nose hadn't been broken, as Albrett's had, and he was far too young to wear such a pinched, weary expression.

To Lottres's surprise, Dietrick took his shoulders in a brief, strong hug.

“
I was sorry to hear about your father,
”
Dietrick said.
“
He was a good king.
”

Lottres staggered a little as Dietrick let go.
“
My father?
”
he repeated blankly.
“
What do you mean?
”

Now Dietrick's face was all too easy to read. With stunned pity, he asked,
“
What, did you not know?
”

Lottres shook his head.
“
We've been traveling for several weeks. What has happened?
”

“
King Unferth passed away some ten days or more gone,
”
Dietrick said quietly.
“
King Oskar rules Crutham now.
”

“
No!
”
Lottres murmured. It couldn't be true. Ymell stepped up beside Lottres, steadying him with a gentle hand.

“
These are evil tidings,
”
Ymell said.
“
Please tell us more, Lord Dietrick.
”

Dietrick stepped back. His voice was tense now.
“
I think my father should explain what has happened since then. Please come with me. I will bring you to the duke.
”

The two lines of soldiers edged backward, making room on the narrow dock. Their captain strode back between them. Lottres cast a panic-stricken look at Yriatt as he followed Dietrick. Soldiers fell in on either side of them, silent except for the rhythmic tramping of feet.

The stairway was long, and wider than it had looked. There was plenty of room for the soldiers, but they stuck close anyway. Lottres followed Dietrick beneath one of the rounded towers and directly into the keep. Servants stood aside, pretending not to stare as the horned wizards passed.

Lottres hardly noticed where they went. His mind was still whirling. Surely this talk of Unferth being dead was a mistake, or some ghastly joke. Dietrick was clearly hiding something from them. Was it his father's treachery, or something else?

The great hall of Carthell Keep was a vast chamber, nearly circular even to the weathered bronze arches overhead. Round windows in the dome sent bars of daylight to pierce the gloom. The feeling of magic was thick in the air, like incense burned to cover a foul odor. Between that and his grief, Lottres felt he must struggle to breathe.